


12 Months Later

by Birdy5678



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Eventual Romance, F/F, Horror, I Tried, Post-Apocalypse, Psychological Horror, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:11:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdy5678/pseuds/Birdy5678
Summary: Pearl's way of life is centered upon one thing: Order, even in the apocalypse, when the city she once grew upon has been reduced to a jungle.Amethyst can't remember the last time she could remember- her days are in a haze as she struggles to grasp at her survival, stuck in a never ending desert, pain is the only thing she knows.The date is not important, the only thing of importance is this:'The Event' took place 12 months earlier.





	1. The Thing Slumbers Underneath the City Part 1: an introduction

The beautiful sounds of Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2, Andante echoed throughout the crumbling skyscrapers as Pearl danced effortlessly. Twisting, contorting her form to suit the moves required by the dance. Papers from a year prior lay neatly packed in stacks; true, they had no use to Pearl, but they did to whomever owned the concrete giant she rested upon. The broken and cracked glass from ‘The Event’ was polished – gone was its original state, though, burn marks remained; caking the jagged edges of said glass- A firm reminder of the events taken place over the twelve months prior. After many cuts and furious scrubbings, Pearl decided to let it go, realizing that it was a lost cause. Such as all things.

This was her home- for the time being, at least until an army or whatever government still stood came to her rescue; oh, how Pearl had imagined the day! Rows of helicopters, jets, and parachuting soldiers- the lot! 

True, Pearl loved the tranquillity of her living spaces, how vines wrapped around buildings like snakes, twisting and squeezing until the giant eventually gave way, crumbling down into oblivion; or the occasional noises of escaped tigers, baboons, giraffes being her favourite of them all. One of her many highlights of the days were spent perched on top of the blown remains of a 711, studying the growing grass and trees that seemingly sprouted from the concrete roads and sketching w  
whatever docile creature passed by. It was ecstasy, but even so, during the encompassing night Pearl often found herself wishing for the familiar yet unfamiliar sounds of voices.

“Good morning Mr. Layfield!” Pearl shouted as she left the aging giant to scavenge for whatever supplies she could get her callused hands on, the mannequin did not respond, but Pearl did for him “I’m doing good, just a tad tired from ballet practice, my flight should be here any soon- how about you?” Again, the mannequin did not respond. “Ah, I see, do tell your lovely wife that I hope she gets well for me please!” Her voice was sweet, tired, even broken. The mannequin did not reply. 

Flowers sprouted from the remains of rusted cars as Pearl walked briskly against the pavement “Monday traffic! Oh jeez.” She sighed, running her fingertips against the metal of her pistol- though never used, it felt good to carry one. Sometimes, only sometimes, Pearl found herself gazing upon the weapon, a certain lust overtaking her, a lust to- “There we are!” looking both ways, Pearl rushed across the ruined street, careful not to step upon the skeletons of the dead.

To say that the state of the supermarket was in a state of disrepair would be an understatement; out of most of the many ruined buildings making up the city skylines, this one had undergone damage; boasting a crater in it’s front wall, the supermarket was certainly beyond the hope of fixing- Pearl accepted this. With a skip in her step and ignoring the pangs of fear clinging to the edges of her subconscious, she rushed into the building. Dark places were to be avoided at all costs.

A stark contrast from the luscious greens, blues, reds, and grey of the outside, the interior of the supermarket was inhumanly dark, specks of dust lay suspended in the air, slowly drifting down to meet an even dustier floor. Cobwebs situated themselves upon ignored shelves as Pearl felt her breaths quicken. The slender female was alone. Completely alone. Fingers twitched upon the handle of the unused pistol as she made her way through the labyrinth of shelves. Beads of sweat soon found themselves situated upon her freckled forehead “Where the frick is the food?” Empty, nothing was found amongst the shelves other than a few scattered gardening equipment. Her steps were quiet, her legs shook as she guided them, making sure that they didn’t step upon any of the scattered bits of rubble, or skeletons- cracked and broken with the passages of time. 

As time increased, Pearl felt the shelves close in on her, wrapping their wooden forms around her frail and defenceless form, eyes opening from another plane of existence- judging, sneering. Sweat pooled its way from the tip of her said forehead to the pointy edge of her chin. Pearl knew that it was time to leave “But not without food!” she shouted, hoping that the failed attempt at mustering courage would scare off any intruders. It did not. Pearl knew this. 

Against seemingly impossible odds and to the surprise of Pearl, her legs found themselves picking speed, outrunning the abyss behind her; Pearl’s eyes scanned the shelves as she passed the shelfs at an increasingly fast pace. The abyss followed, scraping the edges of her jacket, swallowing the supermarket with each footfall of the pink-haired broad, lust consuming its ever fibre. The quiet heaving of breaths turned into whimpers, eventually morphing into a blood curdling scream at the sight of it- a lone can of beans, gathering dust, isolated from the freedom and tranquillity of the outside world. Arms outstretched, Pearl lunged for the beans, barely grazing the edges of the abyss, wrapping her hands tightly around the tin can, her legs in a split-second decision relied purely upon human instinct, bolted to the opposite direction the abyss.

The abyss bellowed in anger and forced its way forward, picking up to the pace of the screaming Pearl. It swallowed everything in its path at a seemingly feral rate, devouring it with lust comparable to that of a blood hound, ripping and tearing through the wood of shelves, its ‘eyes’ focused on one thing- it’s intruder. 

To Pearl’s utter dismay, the soles of her shoes soon gave way, sending her crashing into the broken tiles of the floor. The world darkened as thoughts raced through her head, thoughts of fear- deep, seemingly eldritch fear. Rising her head, Pearl felt the trickle of a familiar warm liquid running its way down her scratched and dirty face. Fear consumed her form as she caught her breath. It was behind her, waiting for her next move with the patience of a predator. Its tendrils snaked their way slowly against the floor, slithering forth, hissing, growing closer and closer to Pearl’s form. Her breaths were shallow, her head pounded with the pain of the cut, her hands trembled as they supported her form, far away from the reaches of the haven of the gun. The gun!  
Not daring to turn her face to meet that of the monster behind her, a trembling hand soon found itself inching its way towards the holster of her firearm. 

Inch

By

Inch

Tears prickled at the corners of her tired eyes, the liquid falling and joining the blood and sweat. 

The abyss awaited, its tendrils drawing closer, and closer.

Trembling fingers squeezing upon the iron trigger.

BLAM.

Nothing, it was nothing. With heaving breaths, Pearl stared at the nothingness in front of her with something akin to fear. Pain throbbed in the bowels of her head as she stood to her trembling feet. 

The trip back to the safety of her temporary haven was done in traumatized silence. The trees swayed with the wind, pointing to the way that was home.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
There were many things that the female hated; heat, the lack of food, those stupid cat videos that seemingly littered the internet last, she remembered- but among the many things that she found herself seething at were the many sandstorms that seemingly littered the wasteland. Yes, sandstorms, as ludicrous as it may sound, Amethyst hated how the sand stuck to her skin, gradually tearing it open. Gritting her teeth to blot out the seemingly endless pain coursing its way throughout her body, Amethyst forced her way through the sand that slowly consumed her. The sand was up to her thigh at this point as she made her way back to the safety of her basecamp. The sun would be setting soon. Her ‘armour’ lay in tatters, the molten metal sticking to her skin. The stop sign that functioned as a shield of sorts was littered with what one could assume to be bullet holes. Amethyst’s legs felt something akin to that of a bent metal baseball bat, rusted and broken.

The camp was in shambles, clinging to the edges of life or death as its rustic columns stood, braving the tests of time. The sun was hot, searing her as she limped to get under the menial shade the cloth tied to the two ends of poles provided. 

Her body ached, even when she succumbed to the temptations of the cot. If Amethyst were to squint, she could still make out the smoke in the distance, if she were to focus on her breathing, she could smell the distinct stench of gore that permeated from their corpses. 

When Amethyst awoke, it was at the dead of night, feeling the cool air course air whip through her body, she stood, and gazed into the horizon- seeing the city would provide her with comfort, knowing that she was getting closer. Amethyst prayed that she was getting closer. It seemed impossible that it would exist, the whole thing was uncanny, its existence, she meant. Amethyst did not see the city, much to her dismay, but she was sure she knew the direction, westward. Packing her things into the torn remains of a Jansport, she commenced the slow limp westward. 

Amethyst couldn’t remember if it hurt, the pain was everlasting, never-leaving, infinite and old. The legs attached to her shook under the weight of the sack, had they always shaken? Amethyst had long since forgotten. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was covered in thick smoke as Amethyst coughed violently unto the sand beneath her “Fuck.” She mumbled in-between fits of cough. The remains of a vehicle burned brightly, shining light inside of the sandstorm surrounding her.

Her ears rung, and her tongue tasted of the familiar taste of blood. Amethyst’s arms shook against the weight of her form as she struggled to stand. 

The sandstorm shrieked, the flash of lightning forcing her to let her balance go and connect to the sand beneath. 

To her utter dismay, the burnt remains of a hand forced its way though the wreckage of twisted steel, a low groan accompanying it. Fear thumped in Amethyst’s heart like beating drum, echoing its way through her hollow form. 

The groans gradually rose in volume as it forced its way out. 

It was supposed to be dead, it was supposed to be ignited in flames, and though in appearance it certainly was, the thing still breathed, the thing was still alive. It was still screaming.

Its screams were shrill, cracked, broken, as though they no longer belonged to the owner. Blood splattered against the darkened sand as its broken and blackened nails dug into the dirt beneath. 

The eyes belonging to the burning thing were a shade of dark blue- a reminder that against seemingly impossible odds, it was still alive, still breathing, and still very angry.

Amethyst’s lavender hair was dirty, streaked with shades of grey and crimson, fear remaining in the depths of her purple eyes. 

With an audible sound of tearing, the thing finally set itself free.

The sandstorm screeched louder. 

Amethyst screeched along, matching its volume.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Amethyst’s breaths felt heavy as she forced her way through the abyss of sand and cosmos, the gun strapped to her back- a firm reminder of the never-ending torment awaiting her. Her eyelids felt heavy and she tried to stifle a yawn forming in her throat. 

The remainders of cars littered the barren wasteland, jutting out of the ground violently. The skeletons of the past remain in their forever drive. Amethyst was thankful for that. The gun was out of ammo, she’d be dead within the minute.

Her feet continued their trek upon the remains of what she could only assume was once a high way. To pass the time, Amethyst hopped from rusted car to rusted car, ignoring the pain that echoed throughout the caverns of her body.

Irradiated vultures circle the night sky, patiently awaiting for the female to fall to the ground, to succumb to her wounds- to die- but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. At the very least she prayed that it wasn’t going to happen. 

Moving her way through the wreckage, Amethyst felt memories cling to the edges of her subconscious.  
Perhaps she was scared, terrified, but Amethyst was exhausted, she found it a mere miracle that she managed to survive this long.

Closing her eyes, she felt the euphoria of memories, all hazy, all blurry- some even glimpses- like a flickering star in an empty galaxy- a grocery store, green, trees; these were but small examples of memories that would flash in the subconscious her mind. It was a high worth living for, worth fighting through the empty and barren wasteland that had become her reality.

Yet there were times where the high led her to darker places, places where the dead rose, where they laughed- where they waited for her to close her eyes and succumb to the emptiness that was death.

Today would not be that day, Amethyst reminded herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amethyst didn’t remember when she picked up the metal rod from the ground, she didn’t even remember seeing it, but there she stood, holding it in front of her form, sweat pooling from her face as the creature stood, a gargantuan gash inflicted upon its side.

“S-stay the fuck away from me!” She said, her voice barely exceeding that of a whisper. The thing smiled a smile that stretched its skin, tore it even. 

With a shuddering sigh, the creature made an advance, a single step towards Amethyst; but that was all she need. 

With anger reminiscent to that of a broken God, Amethyst swung the weapon at its head, the metal connecting instantly, bending as it knocked the creature off its blistered feet.

Rising suddenly and without warning, the creature lunged at her, forcing her to the ground. It screeched, shooting spittle upon Amethyst’s fear-stricken face. It happened in a flash, a sudden movement, and suddenly it was off her, laying on the ground, another gash accompanying its forehead.

It was still alive, still breathing, still angry. Amethyst groaned, standing up, she lunged forward at it, grabbing its head to stomp it into the sand beneath. 

The creature of her subconscious had other plans, it grabbed Amethyst’s thigh, tearing past the boundaries of clothing and tearing into her skin. 

The world turns red as Amethyst crashed to the ground with a dull thud, a scream accompanying it.

The creature rose, licking the blood of its prey off the sharp daggers that it would call nails.

To describe the pain Amethyst felt at that minute would be to describe an unnatural insanity, an insanity of hatred, of fear- of pain. With trembling crawls, she rose, staring at the creature in her wake. 

Amethyst was alive, about as alive as a cancer patient “Come at me…you fuck-wit!” She shouted in-between rasps for breath, Amethyst’s legs felt something akin to crumbling paper, yet there she was, against seemingly impossible feats, she was alive, she was breathing, she was ready.

Without wasting a second, the creature lunged towards her, its claws open and ready to claw her eyes out of its sockets. 

Without wasting a second, Amethyst lunged towards the creature she called her enemy, her fists clenched tightly and ready to twist its neck beyond the breaking point.

The creature pushed itself upon Amethyst with all its weight, but Amethyst held her ground, her legs digging into the sand, her hands wrapped around its arms, a knee would soon find its place in the creature’s stomach.

It crashed to the floor, coughing up blood, and rose to lunge again. This time, Amethyst was ready- with a swift kick to its neck, the creature found its place among the sand once more.

The particles of sand stuck to its skin-less form as it rose, the sand’s colour soon changing into a shade of crimson. Amethyst crashed her form against it, earning another cough of blood splattering across her face. Her hands clasped together, she rose it far past her head, plunging it downwards to its face. Blood splattered across her face once more. Fear clung in the edges of its eyes as her hands rose once more, plunging once more.

And again

And again

And again

Until all that was left was a pulp of flesh and gore. Broken bits of bone cut their way into her fists as Amethyst panted, her form drained of its energy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Amethyst found herself staring at the sand covered ruins of some unnamed gas station the sun was beginning to rise from its slumber. The shade it provided was minimal at best, but it would have to be enough. The interior was dusty, sand covered, shrapnel of bones lay scattered across the floor; bullet shells scattered amongst the floor. 

Amethyst’s eyelids felt heavy once more- sleep would be coming again to sweep her off her blistered feet. The City, off in the distance, sneered at her.


	2. The Thing Slumbers Underneath the City Part 2: The City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I'm not particularly proud of this, but I needed to get the story moving- I don't want to make this a very long series.

Chapter 2  
Pearl awoke to the sounds of birds tweeting, a smile plastered over her face as she began cleaning for the umpteenth time that year. The beautiful sounds of Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2, Andante echoed throughout the crumbling giant as she went to work. On a piece of paper, she had stolen from the CEO’s office (she’ll have to pay for that later) Pearl devised a list of activities to do for today; such as cleaning the seemingly never-ending supply of dust that situated itself upon the shelves in the backroom. 

The room she called her dormitory was small, an emptied storage room with a cot in the corner and a stack of books in the other. With a sigh reminiscent to that of Amethyst’s pearl leaned against the concrete of the wall, perhaps more memories would come to her, to grace her existence. Pearl prayed that they would come sooner. 

The bath was cold, situated upon the edge of a hole blasted into the side of her home, giving her, the best view of the jungle staring back at her. Stripping herself of her night clothes, she sat upon the cool water beneath, pretending that all was fine, that she could feel the steam emitting from the bath. Pearl smiled to herself, humming a tune to herself, she gazed outside at the trees outside, the cooing animals move forward in their never-ending hunt for food and shelter.

Raising a plastic bucket filled with water over her head, Pearl closed her eyes, and waited in anticipation for the chill bite of the cold water splashing upon her bony and malnourished figure.

The chill splashed upon her back, causing her to shiver and yelp as it fell upon her, spreading itself throughout the leather of her skin. “Oof, rather cold today I see, tch, I’ll have to get that fixed later.” 

The meat of her thighs stuck to her skin, showing each bone that seemingly jutted out, to Pearl, she had the figure of a ballerina- to anyone else, she resembled an anorexia-stricken teen.

Her stomach rumbled, sending pain coursing throughout her form as she dressed herself in a simple turtleneck sweater with a matching scarf- for a jungle, it was surprisingly chill. Clutching the metal of her pistol with one hand and the leather of her bag with the other, Pearl left the gargantuan tower she lived in. The abyss stared at her from the corners, silently and patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to tear her apart limb from limb- to see the life drain from her turquoise eyes and die. 

Using the sidewalk, Pearl made sure not to step upon the burnt remains of a soldier’s skeleton- that would be rude. Mannequins littered the streets, mud smeared upon their flat faces.

“Good morning Ms. Sutherland!” Pearl smiled sweetly at her friend, the mannequin did not respond, but instead smiled “Ah, I see, not in a chatty mood huh?” The mannequin nodded. “All right, have a splendid day then!” Birds soared in the sky as Pearl imagined the various friends surrounding her wearing whatever was in fashion this coming year, she imagined frilly skirts and beautiful diamond encrusted necklaces, she imagined freckles plastered upon their makeup filled faces- she always did enjoy freckles; they resembled galaxies, endless stars and suns and comets-all upon one’s face.

Looking at the various broken windows of clothing shops, Peal imagined the wool of a nice sweater dress with an accompanying scarf upon a mannequin- not to be confused with the various mannequins littering the StreetSide.

Today was going to be a good-day, she was sure of it.  
The university lay in front of her, an old thing carved out of stone, various statues accompanying them- Pearl had spent the better part of what she believed to be a summer cleaning the place out; throwing away the broken desks and replacing them with whatever could substitute as a desk or chair.  
Pearl remembered the stress of finals, the accomplishment of finally putting the book down and succumbing to the abyssal realm of sleep. Abyss.

The young woman shivered as she clutched her bag tighter.

Natural light shone inside of the university, lighting the interior, expelling any abyss awaiting with lust, ready to strike and devour her.

There was a total of seven mannequins placed strategically in the class room, three were placed to the left-most corner of the room, seated separately- the other three were situated to the right-most corner of the room; the final one was placed to the front, near the white board. Pearl would be situated in the middle. 

A manic smile plastered upon her face, Pearl took a seat, opened her leather bag, pulled out her notebook as well as her pen, and prepared herself mentally for the trails ahead. It was a review, something that she already knew, so listening to the mannequin blabber on was not very necessary.

The class soon ended, precisely an hour after the woman entered. 

It was in the hallway on the route towards her next class that the crack in her will appeared.  
The abyss howled with glee.

Pearl’s smile shone brightly for the first few seconds, then drooped, then ultimately failed. With a sigh Pearl felt her will quaver; when would the day come?

When would the day come?

The abyss’ eyes opened, surrounding its form as its legs extended beyond the breaking point.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

Its legs slapped wetly against the ground as its fur- the colour of space- blew wildly throughout the hallway, spreading and consuming anything around her.

Its form split into two.

Then to three

Until it surrounded her. Its many tongues lurched out of its many mouths, and then gradually formed one.

Beads of sweat formed upon Pearl’s face, falling and slipping between her beak-like nose. Today would be the day, wouldn’t it? Today would be the day.

Her trembling hands moved towards the gun that she had only fired once, her fingers grazed the cool metal.

It would be so easy, the Abyss mumbled. 

Pearl agreed.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
The minimal shade from the gas station provided was laughable at best. But it was still shade.

Sitting down, Amethyst took out the contents of her Jansport- the empty corpse of a plastic water bottle, some stale crackers, three used shells of a shotgun, and a passport of a woman she did not recognize, a woman who looked beautiful, happy, smiling, and ready to take on the world- a woman who was not worn down, dying- a woman who still had her life ahead of her; there were days when Amethyst would stare at the picture and force herself to remember, to grap at anything even remotely substantial, all that formed would only be an abyss, and she would cry. 

None of these things besides the crackers showed a semblance of use.

The city appeared in the background once more, providing Amethyst with another nugget of hope- a hope that she was getting closer in a world which only seemed to push her farther away.

But then it disappeared, and Amethyst found herself at square one all over again.  
Figuring that sleep would be the best option, Amethyst decided to just hit the hay, sleep, give up for the day.  
Her eyes felt heavy, heavier than the iron of the discarded assault rifle, heavier than the weight of the Gods. 

After a brief struggle to maintain dominance, her eyes closed.   
To describe Amethyst’s dreams were to describe the smell of hay in a freshly cleaned barn, the smell of horses, the smell of trees. 

They were simple things; her dreams. Vibrant colours flashed upon her awe -stricken face, cascading violently against the bleak greys and orangers of her reality- Amethyst’s hands traced the texture of her skin- devoid of the plentiful scars plastered upon her body like tattoos

With a swipe of her wrists, the world bent itself to her will, changing colours, splitting and contorting its form to suit her bidding. 

There were dreams where she had control- using her new-found powers to bend the world of her subconscious to remember details, however small, of her past; of the times where she once smiled, laughed even. There were dreams where she had no control- where the World Changers activated, tearing through her skin and killing her slowly and painfully- breaking bones and melting her eyes. 

Amethyst awoke in the dead of night, hearing the scratching of claws against dusty concrete. Shit.

Making a conscious effort, Amethyst steadied her breath, willing her ears to listen further. The claws tapped on the concrete in a circular path; suggesting that the creature was circling her. Its eyes scanned the room but indicated no factual evidence that it could even see- its tendrils circled the air, whipping and dancing, touching anything it could. It had not noticed her yet, to which she thanked what ever faceless deity still stood watching over her.

The shrapnel embedded in Amethyst’s arm sent searing pain coursing through the hollow remains of what was once a body as she moved to grab the assault rifle. Though it had no ammunition, it would help to be at the very least armed with something that could be turned into blunt tool.

Its form dripped with abyss, tainting the world around her the colour of cosmos. Its mouth opened, splitting, teeth erecting from the inky black. Rising from the floor cautiously, fear consumed her form like the rhythm of music as she swayed cautiously through the station’s interior, hoping; praying that escape could become a possibility.

The creature’s ears twitched, causing Amethyst to cringe as she stared at its back. 

It growled, turning its abyss-caked eyes towards her, and channelled a booming roar reminiscent to that of a dying whale. Tendrils erupted out from its form, sending bleeding pain shooting through its body as it squealed ferally, its form quivering as it collided to the ground with a dull wheeze, only to rise once more. Amethyst stifled a scream.  
Though her legs ached, and her arms tore, Amethyst sprinted towards the door in sight, daring not to look back and gaze upon its form and becoming one of them.

The creature lunged forth, tendrils wrapped around the remains of a chair- its teeth tearing through its skin as it raises the chair above what one could only assume to be its head, its teeth, aiming, awaiting to be given the ready to fire.

Aiming

And then firing.

The door was within arm’s length when Amethyst felt the prickles tear through the boundaries of the iron that functioned as armour, and into her flesh, embedding themselves within. 

Her form, limp, connected to the ground beneath.

Her breaths wheezy and her eyelids heavy, Amethyst felt the feeling of ease that would accompany death, her ears rung, but she swore that she could hear the distant bells as they beckoned her forth. 

Saliva dripped off its mouth as it rose, ready to consume its next meal. 

Amethyst gazed at one thing. 

The city revealing itself to her broken and tired form, a beacon of hope in a world without.

**Author's Note:**

> oof, I don't know what to think of this? I hope that someone enjoys this.


End file.
